In the UK, there is a significant gap in the stem cell donor register, particularly among people of south Asian heritage.
This under-representation means that patients from these communities face much lower chances of finding a life-saving match if they require a stem cell transplant. DKMS, a leading blood cancer charity, is working to close this gap by encouraging more people to join the stem cell register.
Kamaljit Bola, from the West Midlands, is one of those who answered the call and shared her inspiring journey.
MY NAME is Kamaljit Bola, but everyone knows me as Kam. I’m a married mother of two boys, who are now young men.
My journey with stem cell donation began five years ago, motivated by a deeply personal experience. As the mother of a child with a lifelong rare blood disorder, I understand the desire for your child to live a ‘normal life’. For us, ‘normal’ has meant monthly red blood transfusions for the past 20 years.
When Rajan was around 14 months old, our world was turned upside down. After numerous tests and appointments, a bone marrow test confirmed that he had sideroblastic anaemia – a rare condition where his red blood cells remain dormant in his bone marrow and do not oxygenate properly. From the outset, doctors searched the stem cell donor registry for a match that could save his life, but despite years of waiting, we are still hoping to find one.
Receiving this diagnosis as young parents was overwhelming – we didn’t know how to handle it. We were responsible for this precious life, but his condition was beyond our control. Telling our families was also difficult; our parents didn’t fully understand what it meant at the time. For a long time, we went through the motions, feeling numb and stressed. Our older son, Arran, needed us too, and I tried to balance everything, although it often felt consuming.
Joining the stem cell donor register through blood cancer charity DKMS was a deeply empathetic decision.
As the parent of a sick child, you understand how valuable donors of any kind are. I’m eternally grateful to blood donors because, without them, Rajan – who has now had over 228 blood transfusions – wouldn’t be alive today.
I often remind Rajan that just like his rare condition, he is unique and precious, like a diamond. He is strong, resilient, and always optimistic. Rajan also has autism, so he sees the world through his own lens, with different developmental needs.
We don’t know if he’ll ever work, but that’s okay. He is passionate about boxing and Formula 1 – his heroes are Anthony Joshua and Lewis Hamilton. We focus on his passions, taking him to live boxing events and attending the Grand Prix because I know how precious life is. Tomorrow is never guaranteed, so I try to live each day fully.
I urge everyone to join the stem cell donor register – you never know who you might help. Registering starts with a simple mouth swab and providing some personal details – it’s painless. In our community, people often believe personal struggles should remain private.
I know many suffer in silence; I did too. I couldn’t fully express the pain and helplessness I felt for my son. I was told not to worry, to visit the Gurdwara, and that everything would be okay. During this time, I found strength in prayer and optimism, determined to do everything possible for Rajan.
Bola with her sons Rajan and Arran
This year, something extraordinary happened. In February, DKMS contacted me to say I was a potential match for someone and asked if I was still willing to donate. Of course, I said yes. After a blood test at my local hospital, I was told in April that I was indeed a match. DKMS organised my medical appointments and donation date – the whole experience felt surreal. It felt like karma, as though searching for a donor for my son led me to save someone else. I know the recipient is male and lives in North America – this was shared with me after the donation.
The process was explained clearly, and I felt well-prepared. I took a series of injections to stimulate my stem cells before the donation, and Arran, a qualified pharmacist, administered them. The symptoms were intense, but I reminded myself that the recipient was going through something far worse, preparing for the transplant with chemotherapy.
I also thought of Rajan, who told me he was proud of me. He even wanted pictures of me being cannulated (a small tube put into your vein), as he experiences the same procedure every month. The donation itself was emotional, and I had to hold back tears several times.
I donated through apheresis, or peripheral blood stem cell (PBSC) collection, where stem cells were collected from one arm while blood was returned through the other. The processtook place over two days, with each session lasting around five hours. The clinic staff made me feel comfortable, and the aftercare was excellent – I felt truly looked after.
If you’ve ever considered joining the stem cell register but haven’t, I hope my story inspires you to take that step. If you aren’t familiar with DKMS, I encourage you to learn more about their incredible work. Their mission to get as many people on the register as possible is truly life-saving. I am humbled to have been a donor and continue to hope that one day, Rajan won’t need monthly transfusions. You never know who might be waiting for you to save their life.
For more information and to order your free swab visit dkms.org.uk
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
By clicking the 'Subscribe’, you agree to receive our newsletter, marketing communications and industry
partners/sponsors sharing promotional product information via email and print communication from Garavi Gujarat
Publications Ltd and subsidiaries. You have the right to withdraw your consent at any time by clicking the
unsubscribe link in our emails. We will use your email address to personalize our communications and send you
relevant offers. Your data will be stored up to 30 days after unsubscribing.
Contact us at data@amg.biz to see how we manage and store your data.